


Taxi

by Severina



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Blogathon 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-28
Updated: 2007-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severina/pseuds/Severina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Next time I get an idea like this, do me a favour and just, like, stick bamboo shoots in my eyes or something. That'd be less painful."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taxi

**Author's Note:**

> Post Season Three  
> Written for Blogathon 2007  
> Season Three ended with Brian out of work. And at that time, LJ's quinn222 put forth this prompt: that we write Brian and/or Justin into _our current jobs_. It took me a couple of years, but I finally did it. Unfortunately, much of this is VERY accurate!

Brian dragged his heels. "This is preposterous."

"It's not," Justin insisted. "We have a combined total weekly income of ninety-eight dollars and fifty-six cents. We need jobs."

"Why?"

Justin stopped pulling on Brian's hand to gaze at him incredulously. "Why? Oh, just little things like food, clothing, phone bills. Not to mention the mortgage--"

"The mortgage is paid off," Brian said smugly. He mimed a toast. "Thank you, Pool Boy."

"--the utilities, car payment, credit cards--" Justin continued relentlessly.

"Vance will be hiring me back at any moment," Brian said firmly. "An offer is _imminent_."

"Fine," Justin said. "But until he makes that offer, we need something to supplement the extravagant tips that my ass brings in at the diner. So--" Justin pointed at the grimy little building.

Brian grimaced up at the sign, and sighed. _Temple Taxi_. He couldn't believe his life had come to this.

"Fucking Stockwell," he muttered under his breath.

Justin nodded grimly and led him inside.

* * *

The paperwork took less than an hour.

Brian was handed the keys to car number 18, a slightly dilapidated looking Crown Victoria with 300,000 miles and vinyl upholstery that had clearly seen better days. Justin watched him get gingerly into the drivers seat and waved him off before following the office manager into the dispatch office, where he'd learn the finer points of Answering A Telephone. He managed to master this oh-so-challenging task in approximately thirty seconds.

"You're a fast learner," the office manager gushed.

"Uh. Thanks?"

He was introduced to his fellow employees and set up at a corner desk within five minutes.

He answered calls with aplomb. "391 Main East? Right away, ma'am." -- "And your name? Great, thanks Steve!" -- "You're at the emergency door? Do you need any assistance? All right, we'll be there in five minutes."

Justin grinned at his co-workers, none of whose names he'd bothered to actually learn, and sipped at his Diet Pepsi. He planned to give his notice to Debbie in the morning. Schlep water glasses and get his ass pinched at the diner when he could sit at a desk and do this all day? If he never looked at another pink plate special it would be too soon.

And then--

"I'm sorry, sir, there's ten Granddad's Donuts in the city. Which one are you at?"

The customer mumbled something into the phone.

"Sir?"

"I said, _the one by the trees_!"

"Um." Justin glanced around frantically, but everyone else was busy at the own calls. He took a breath. He could handle this. "Can you read the sign and tell me what street you're on?"

"I already told you I'm dyslexic!"

"Oh. Sorry." Justin was surprised the guy could even _say_ dyslexic. "Um. Oh! Can you tell me what's around you?" He had a fairly good knowledge of the city. He hoped that he'd recognize the area and--

The customer sighed. "It's Granddad's Donuts. It's the one by the trees. You know, the trees by the building with all the windows! _You know_."

Justin pressed his lips together and admitted defeat. "Um. Okay sir. I'll send that right away." He pressed the release button on the phone and hoped that nobody noticed that his call didn't make it through to the computer screen.

* * *

Justin was about to escape for a much needed smoke break when one of the girls, a mousy blonde he'd mentally dubbed Slack-Jawed Sally, transferred him a call.

"Temple Taxi, how can I--"

"My car smells like wet dog and dirty jockstrap."

Justin laughed softly. "I'm sure it's not that bad."

"I think there's something growing in the back seat. It's glowing."

"Somebody probably dropped one of those glow sticks last night. There was a rave on Bridge."

"How do you know?" Brian demanded.

"Because we were invited to it?"

"And we didn't go because?"

"Please," Justin snorted. "_I'm_ too old for a rave. And if _I'm_ too old--"

"Don't even go there, Sunshine."

Justin grinned, then noticed that the Office Manager was frowning in his direction. She looked, actually, liked she'd just taken a bite out of a very sour lemon. He squinted and… yes, her lips were actually wrinkled with distaste. He lowered his voice. "We're busy, Brian. I gotta go."

"Later."

* * *

"Larry?" one of the call takers called out.

The grizzled dispatcher swivelled in his chair, squinting across the room in an attempt to see who had called his name. Larry! Justin smiled. One name down, eight to go. At least he could stop mentally referring to the geezer as The Lush. Because honestly, Justin was sort of amazed that the guy could actually function, considering the overwhelming stench of alcohol oozing from his pores. Sour-Faced Office Manager seemed not to notice. Justin imagined she must suffer from some freakish scent impairment.

"There's someone on the phone complaining about one of our drivers," the girl said meekly. Justin didn't have a clue what her name was, either. He actually hadn't noticed her at all until this very moment. Maybe he'd start calling her Invisible Girl.

Larry grunted. "What's the problem?"

The call taker blushed. "Um. Well, she says that one of our drivers is… sort of…"

"Fer chrissakes, what?"

"She says it looks like he's having sex in the Wal-Mart parking lot."

A gasp went up from the surrounding workers.

"That's disgusting," a dark-haired girl muttered. Slack-Jawed Sally nodded in agreement.

Larry sighed heavily. "Which car?"

"Eighteen," the girl replied.

"Oh," Justin grinned. "Don't worry. Brian always uses a condom. And the car will be fine. He's fastidious about cleaning up afterward. Believe me, I know." Justin glanced around the room reassuringly, only to be met by set after set of horrified eyes. His grin faltered.

Larry sighed again. "Tell her I'll take care of it," he directed Invisible Girl.

Justin slunk down in his seat, not sure which he dreaded most: Brian getting fired, or the reaction Larry was going to get over the air if he tried to ream Brian out for fucking on the job. He sighed. At least it appeared Brian's had gotten over the stench in the vehicle, as well as the glowing potential-fungus in the backseat. That was something.

Justin waited for the axe to fall, ignoring the ringing phones.

And Larry just took another drink and returned to giving out trips with a shrug.

Somehow, Justin didn't think there was coffee in that cup.

* * *

The call rang through when he was in the middle of trying to explain to a potential client why he could not travel from one end of the city to the other on a ten dollar flat rate (and was quite pleased that he managed to do this without once using the terms "fucking cheapass" or "moronic skinflint"), so it took him three attempts (and two bounce backs to Invisible Girl) before he was actually able to answer his second line.

"Good afternoon, Temp--"

"Someone just tried to run on me," Brian blurted out. "Fucker."

Justin blinked. "Huh?"

"I had a runner," Brian said slowly, like he was talking to a retarded five year old. Or, you know, Gus. "As in 'an individual who bolted from my vehicle in an attempt to avoid payment'."

"Fuck, Brian--"

"I chased him down," Brian said proudly.

"Are you crazy? He could have attacked you!"

"Fucker owed me seven dollars," Brian said. "I got his jacket."

"Why would you _want_ his jacket?"

The question seemed to stymie Brian. Finally he said, "It might look good on you."

"I'm not wearing some fucking loser's jacket! Throw it out!"

"Fine," Brian huffed. "But he'll be sorry when the temperature drops below zero tonight and he's--"

"I've gotta go, Brian, the phones are ringing. Later."

* * *

Justin was enjoying a rare lull in the constant fucking annoying endless ringing phones circle of hell when--

"Want to see a picture of my dog?"

Justin peered through his bangs at the woman at the adjoining desk. "Um, I'm not really a dog person."

"He's an Alaskan malamute," the woman said, ignoring him entirely and taking a tattered photo out of her wallet. "Isn't he gorgeous?"

Justin barely glanced at the photo. He tried a weak smile. "Gorgeous."

"He failed obedience school. He kept peeing on all the other dogs."

Justin really didn't know what to say to that.

"Do you have any pets?"

"No, I--"

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"I'm gay," Justin said firmly.

"Ohhhh." The woman gawked at him intently through her glasses. "I've never met a gay person before!"

Justin buried his head in his hands.

* * *

"You want to speak to Justin?" the dark-haired call taker said into the phone.

Justin glanced up at the sound of his name. The girl -- Sabrina and Miranda or something like that -- shot him a dirty look as she transferred the call to his line. "It's for you," she said. "Again."

Justin hurriedly adjusted his headset. "Good afternoon, Temple Taxi."

"Some asshole just fucking puked in my car!"

Justin cringed and slunk further in his seat, trying to avoid the baleful glances from the other workers. "Brian," he whispered loudly, "you can't keep calling me in here!"

"Some of it got on my shoe!" Brian exploded.

Justin eyes darted around the room. The phones were ringing off the hook, and everyone else was knee-deep in calls… except him. "Brian, seriously--"

"Seriously, on my fucking shoe. These are five hundred dollar Testoni loafers. And some domestic-beer-guzzling half-wit redneck just upchucked a significant portion of his motherfucking Big Mac Combo on--"

"Okay, I get it!" Justin hissed. "Just clean it up and--"

"Ohhh no. That's it. I'm quitting."

"No, you're fucking not," Justin said, a little louder than he intended. Dark-haired Sabrina/Miranda shot him a surly look. He smiled feebly and turned toward the scuffed banana yellow wall. "Clean it the fuck up and get back to work!"

"Jus--"

"I don't want to hear it, Brian," he hissed. "Suck it up!"

Justin stabbed viciously at the disconnect button, which was nowhere near as satisfying as a good old fashioned slammed receiver. But he had to take what he could get.

* * *

At the end of the day, Justin was issued a written warning for "use of profanity" and "inappropriate allocation of personal calls".

Brian's night shift driver found his come-towel on the floor of the backseat and reported it to the evening manager.

* * *

Justin met Brian in the parking lot at the end of their twelve hour shifts.

"So," he said wearily, "how much did you make?"

"Almost three hundred."

Justin perked up. "Wow, that's pretty good--"

"Minus sixty percent to the plate owner, minus gas, minus interior cleaning, minus a car wash, minus--"

"I get it," Justin said. "And your take home is--"

"Sixty three dollars."

Justin deflated. "Shit." He scuffed his feet on the worn concrete. "Next time I get an idea like this, do me a favour and just, like, stick bamboo shoots in my eyes or something. That'd be less painful."

Brian smirked. "I'd rather fuck you."

"Can't. Exhausted."

"Never say _can't_, Sunshine."

"Invisible Girl thinks she can set me up with her roommate," Justin said tiredly.

Brian blinked.

"And Dog Girl wants to invite me to a Tupperware party."

Brian slung an arm around Justin's shoulder. "You know," he said, "you're very weird."

"Yeah," Justin said. "An offer is imminent, huh?"

"Practically guaranteed."

"Hmm." Justin started to plod home. "I'm pretty sure there's enough food in the cupboard to last until… Thursday."

Brian shrugged. "If we run short of funds, Hunter might let you share his corner."

"And at least we can get some deals with your Seniors Discount card."

Justin grinned. Brian grinned back.

"You know," Justin said, "I'm starting to feel a lot less tired."


End file.
